Under Falling Skies

by Kate MacLeod

  Viola stepped onto the bottom shelf, not tall enough to reach the top shelf on her own, and put the rifle up high inside a case with a palm lock. There was a clanking of glass as she dug around behind the bar, then she returned to the table, another glass in hand.

  “Scout, bring the cat here,” Warrior said. The cat was still looking up at Scout with imploring eyes. Scout bent to pick up the cat, and Girl surged forward as if trying to take her prize back.

  “No!” Scout said as she cuddled the cat close to her chest. Girl looked confused at her anger but still tried to catch the end of the cat’s tail. “No! Bad girl!”

  “Dogs are a menace,” Viola said bitterly as she poured some of the amber liquid into the glass. Her eyes dropped as Scout, with the cat in her arms, drew nearer. Scout didn’t blame her for not wanting to look. The cat was half-flattened; it was a gruesome sight.

  “That one’s not my dog. Not really,” Scout said. “The well-behaved one is my dog.”

  “They both came in here with you, that’s all I know,” Viola said, taking a drink.

  “Scout.” There was an edge to Warrior’s voice, and Scout hurried to bring the cat to where Warrior was waiting at the bar.

  “How can you fix this?” Scout asked as Warrior ran her hands gently over the cat’s body.

  “It’s costly,” Warrior said. “Too much for a cat, really. But your dogs just made a hard situation harder.” She lifted her face and pinned Scout down with those blank lenses. Scout fought the urge to squirm.

  “It’s not really my fault,” Scout said.

  “It’s your responsibility,” Warrior said. “You may not have chosen that dog, but she chose you. She’s yours. She’s your responsibility, and you’ve been neglecting her. You do her a disservice not to train her as well as your other dog.”

  “She’s not that bright,” Scout said.

  Warrior just looked at her until Scout dropped her head. She didn’t want to say out loud that Warrior was probably right. Training Shadow had been something she had done with her father, and every time she tried to teach Girl something, it made her sad. She remembered how patient her father had been, how her little brother had squealed and clapped his hands when Shadow had done his tricks like playing dead or walking on his hind feet. Of course, those weren't the kinds of things to teach Girl, but still.

  Trying to do it on her own only reminded her of everything she had lost.

  Warrior had finished examining the cat but was lost in thought, stroking the cat’s head as she considered what to do.

  “You can’t fix it,” Scout said. “Her pelvis is crushed. Too many little pieces—we can’t set that.”

  “You’re not wrong about that,” Warrior said. “But there is something I can do.” She pulled a tiny blade from her belt and held it over her spread palm. She seemed to be concentrating on something, just staring at her hand. Then Scout saw something wiggle, something under Warrior’s skin. Warrior put the point of the blade under her skin, digging in to get under the wiggling thing. Her blood welled up, but thickly, slowly. Her blood was dark, more purple than red even when exposed to air. Scout saw a small metallic flash, something resting on the point of the blade. Before she got a good look at it, Warrior had stabbed it into the cat’s thigh.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Viola shouted as the cat shrieked, and she ran to her pet’s side.

  “What needs to be done,” Warrior said. “I just put a nanite inside of Tubbins here. It’s going to get to work helping your cat heal. It’s going to take a few hours, but he’ll be fine.”

  “Nanite,” Viola repeated.

  Warrior rummaged under the bar until she found a towel, cleaned her blade, and then wrapped the towel around her hand. She put the knife away and stroked the cat one more time.

  The others had come into the room now, Girl once more growling low in her throat at the sight of Clementine. Ruth took Clementine by the arm, steering her further away from the dogs to the far end of the table. Ottilie set her and Ebba’s sacks on the table as Ebba bent to pick up the spilled ration packets. Whatever she had been concealing in her hand was gone now.

  Liv’s chair floated silently to the head of the table and settled to the ground. Liv sat back, hands folded over her stomach as her eyes swept across them all.

  “How many rooms are there in this place?” she asked Viola.

  “Why do you want to know?” Viola asked, refusing to leave her cat’s side.

  “We might want to divide up into groups for safety,” she said.

  “No, we stick together,” Warrior said.

  “You know, I’m a latecomer to this little party, so I’m not entirely sure why you’re in charge,” Liv said coldly.

  “Yeah, you have been giving a lot of orders,” Ottilie said. “I’m not sure I’m cool with that either.”

  “I got us all here, out of the storm,” Warrior said.

  “I found my own way here,” Liv said.

  “And I blew the door,” Ottilie said.

  “I’m not giving orders, I’m pointing out common sense,” Warrior said. She pulled the towel back from her palm, saw that the bleeding had stopped, and tossed the towel aside, reaching for something else on her belt. She grabbed Scout’s wrist and pressed the device to her forearm, triggering it. There was a hiss and a flash of pain.

  “Ow!” Scout said, pulling her arm tight against her stomach.

  “What is that?” Viola asked, sounding more curious than anything.

  “Just a little something to fight the effects of exposure to a coronal mass ejection event. I’m guessing you don’t need any,” Warrior said.

  “No, I’ve been underground the entire time,” Viola said, her eyes sweeping over the other gadgets on Warrior’s belt. Tubbins made a sleepy whimpering sound and she turned her attention back to the cat.

  “Surely, even if we can’t agree on a leader, we can agree that we’re a team,” Ebba said, stacking the ration packets at the end of the table. She paused in her work to let Warrior inject her.

  “We’re not a team,” Ruth said. “Not with you.”

  “Why not her in particular?” Viola asked.

  “Because of this,” Ruth said, reaching across the table to catch Ebba by the wrist. Warrior had pushed back her sleeve to inject into bare skin and Ruth had stopped Ebba before she could smooth her cuff back into place. They all saw the tattoo.

  Viola appeared mildly surprised, but the look of cold loathing that passed over Liv’s face chilled Scout to the bone. Liv quickly mimicked Viola’s expression, but Scout knew she hadn’t imagined it.

  For whatever reason, Liv hated Space Farers, was repulsed by them. But had there also been the slightest tinge of fear?

  10

  Scout had already seen the tattoo. Warrior certainly knew of its existence whether or not she’d ever actually acknowledged it. It didn’t seem like it meant much to Clementine. But Viola and Liv recoiled as if it were a loaded weapon aimed at them.

  “I vote we put her back outside,” Viola said. “Do you know how many of my friends and family you killed?”

  “No, I don’t,” Ebba said, breaking Ruth’s hold on her wrist with a sharp twisting movement. Ruth hissed in pain and clutched her hand close to her chest with her other hand. Ebba may be old and long retired from the military, but clearly she was not frail or one to be bullied.

  “The war is over,” Ottilie said, holding out her own arm for Warrior to inject. “Nothing to be gained by rehashing all that here.”

  “What do you know about it?” Ruth demanded.

  “Ebba was in communications,” Ottilie said. “There’s no blood on her hands. But mine?” She planted one fist on the table, flexing her bicep until they were all looking at her tattoo. “I know there’s blood on my hands. But it’s in the past.”

  “Nothing is ever in the past,” Ruth said. “Everything about our lives today, everything is based on a foundation from yesterday. We can’t ignore that.”

  “For the nex
t four days you’re going to,” Warrior said, injecting first Ruth, then Clementine. The little girl didn’t even flinch. “We’re all going to be miserable enough without finding causes for squabbles.”

  “Is she a Space Farer too?” Viola asked Liv in a low voice. Or tried to; she had drained enough glasses of amber liquid that her low voice wasn’t all that low anymore, especially pitched to carry halfway across the room.

  “No, I’m not a Space Farer,” Warrior said before anyone else could speak. “I’m not from here.”

  “Then where are you from?” Liv asked.

  “I’m from a place a little nearer the galactic center,” Warrior said.

  “And?” Liv prompted. Viola had set her glass down, arms folded as she waited to hear the answer. Ebba and Ottilie turned to look at Warrior as well. Only Clementine seemed uninterested, her gaze focused on her hands as her fingertips traced something on the tabletop.

  “And I’m a galactic marshal,” Warrior finally admitted. “That’s not really anything that concerns any of you.”

  “You have no jurisdiction here,” Ottilie said.

  “True,” Warrior said.

  “So why are you here?” Ottilie persisted.

  “I’m tracking down a fugitive from justice,” Warrior said.

  They all looked at each other nervously.

  “Not one of you. Honestly, I just got caught out in the storm like the rest of you.”

  “So that’s why you’re so bossy,” Ottilie said, nodding to herself.

  Warrior just shrugged. “Do you want a dose?” she asked Liv, who rolled back one silken sleeve and raised her arm with an air of quiet dignity.

  “Can I have some of that?” Liv asked Viola as she rolled her sleeve back down.

  Viola bit her lip as she looked at her bottle but in the end just gave a curt nod. Liv lifted the hem of her shirt as if to clean off the mouth of the bottle, saw how filthy her shirt was, and let it drop. She took a long swallow from the bottle and set it back on the table, giving Viola a nod of thanks. Ebba and Ottilie were sitting at the far corner of the table, heads close together as they talked in low voices, their hands clasped together in a knot. Ruth was going through the stack of ration packets, occasionally showing one to Clementine, who would only shake her head no.

  Viola went back to the bar to stroke the cat’s head, although Tubbins had gone to sleep long ago.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Scout asked when Warrior came back to the bar.

  “Maybe,” Warrior said, sounding tired. “Sleeping is normal. It takes a lot of energy to heal.”

  Scout had a ton more questions, more about the galactic center than about the cat, and really wanted to know about the fugitive from justice that Warrior was hunting. Was it one of the rebels? But Shadow was pawing at her knee, a gesture she well knew the meaning of.

  “I should take the dogs up the tunnel a bit,” she said.

  At the word “dogs,” Girl began to thump her tail again, but hesitantly, as if she wasn’t sure if she was still in trouble or not.

  “Not the tunnel,” Viola said, lurching away from the bar. She crossed one of the shelves and pulled out a tote, tossing the lid aside so she could dig through the contents. “Here,” she said, thrusting what looked like a folded blanket at Scout. Scout crossed the room to take it. It wasn’t a blanket; the surface felt papery, but it was thick and felt like it was full of beads. “Take them two rooms down that way,” Viola said, pointing to one of the doorways. “That’s where the cat goes. Have them go on this. I trust if it’s not liquid you’ll dispose of it yourself. There’s a toilet in the corner.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you,” Scout said. Viola said nothing, just stomped back to her cat. Scout gave a little whistle and the dogs followed her.

  As soon as she stepped through the doorway, the room beyond detected her presence and the light came on. This room was rectangular, longer than wide, and used for storage—and, if anything, dustier than the octagonal room. She passed through the far doorway and another light came on. Now she was in a locker room with a few showers and toilet stalls in the far corner. Everything was built for function and durability only: not a single splash of color, just metal lockers, concrete walls, too-bright lights, and tile floors that had probably once been white but were fading to a gray that matched the concrete. Even the benches of molded plastic were gray; no faux-wood here.

  She could smell the cat box from the doorway. So could the dogs. Shadow stopped in his tracks when she told him to leave it, but she had to grab Girl by the collar and pull her away. She spread the pad on the floor.

  “Shadow, come here,” she said, pointing to the pad. He was hesitant, touching just a toe and then a paw before pulling away to sit down on the cold stone floor and look up at her questioningly. She patted the pad again and called him one more time. She could see in his eyes he knew what she meant, and if a dog could sigh, she was sure he would be doing that now. At last he stood up and came over to her and lifted his leg.

  Girl was halfway back to the cat box and Scout had to catch her collar again and pull her over to the pad. She didn’t seem to mind the feel of it under her feet and once she saw what Shadow was doing, she followed suit.

  When Scout and the dogs got back to the main room, everyone was in the process of putting together a meal on the long table. Viola’s bottle had been put away, and Ebba and Ottilie were setting out aluminum plates, cups, and flatware. The ration packets were nowhere to be seen. The room directly across from Scout was now lit up and she could see she had been right about what she heard. Three refrigerators stood in a row, one with a glass front through which she could see an array of beverages, including her favorite brand of jolo. As she drew closer she could see there was also a massive stove and a row of ovens. Ruth was in that corner, watching something cook inside a microwave.

  Warrior and Viola were still at the bar with the cat, and Girl ran over to them, whimpering because the cat was out of reach. Viola made a growling sound low in her throat and Girl backed away.

  The microwave beeped and Ruth took out a covered tureen and brushed past Scout as she carried it to the table. Scout edged closer to the refrigerators. It looked like Viola was sharing her food. What about the jolo?

  Then, as she passed a doorway on her left, something caught the corner of her eye. She took half a step back, as if afraid of being caught, although she hadn’t been doing anything yet. She drew up to the edge of the doorway, peeking around the corner to see Liv in her hover chair, tightly grasping Clementine’s forearm to pull her closer as she spoke to her in a voice so low Scout couldn’t even hear a murmur of it.

  What could Liv have to say to Clementine? The girl never spoke.

  But then Scout saw the girl nod her head. That was more response than Scout had seen her giving even Ruth.

  Scout jumped at a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Ruth smiling at her. “Hungry?”

  “I guess so,” Scout said.

  “It’s just freeze-dried soup, but it smells pretty good,” Ruth said, still smiling. “Have you seen Clementine?”

  “Yeah,” Scout said. “She’s in there. With Liv.”

  Ruth’s eyebrows came together in mild confusion, but her smile didn’t falter. “Well, you should go get it while it’s hot.” Then she went through the doorway into the room where Clementine was now standing quite apart from Liv. Ruth went to her, putting a hand on each of her shoulders and steering her back to the main room. Liv followed, glancing up at Scout still hovering near the doorway.

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” Liv asked her.

  “No, I would remember you,” Scout said.

  “Yes, I suppose you would,” Liv said. “Still . . .”

  She stared at Scout’s face as if cataloguing every detail, a slight frown to the corners of her mouth. Then she gave herself a shake and continued on to the table.

  Scout had definitely never met her. Even without the chair, she had never seen eyes so piercing. They were r
apacious. Like she hunted from on high. But perhaps Scout was not the one Liv thought she remembered.

  Everyone had always told Scout that she looked exactly like her mother. Had Liv known her?

  11

  The others had gathered around the table, Viola filling bowls of soup from the now-uncovered tureen as Ruth passed around a basket filled with a variety of bread rolls. Ottilie seized her spoon as if it were some sort of shoveling tool and began eating her soup with gusto. Ebba beside her was more delicate, carefully blowing off each spoonful before bringing it to her lips. Clementine was tearing a roll into small pieces and dropping them into her soup. For a moment it looked like a family reunited after many years, a little awkward with each other but still feeling the bonds of kin. Only Warrior, off to the side still nursing the sick cat, didn’t quite fit the picture.

  Scout wasn’t sure she fit either. The only space left at the table was next to where Liv had parked her hover chair. Scout sat down and took the bowl Viola handed her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Really. I know we’re an intrusion.”

  Viola made a grunt that could have meant anything. “I apologize for the rude welcome. I don’t get many visitors. I don’t like visitors. Still, it’s not the way my parents raised me. I have enough to share, please eat all you like.”

  “What is this place?” Scout asked as she reached for the basket of rolls. “You look like a supply depot, but you’re so hidden away.”

  “My customers know how to find me,” Viola said. “My grandparents started this business from the early days. It was still booming in my parents’ day. Not so much now.”